


Better Luck Next Time

by MellytheHun



Series: Tumblr Sterek Prompts [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Protective Derek, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: prompt: things you said when you were scared (sterek of course, extra points if it's Derek being the one scared, but I'll take either)





	Better Luck Next Time

When the warehouse lights up, Stiles' hearing goes out with the explosion.

Everything is white noise and static for a few beats while he regains consciousness.

He’s sure he couldn’t have blacked out for long, but it takes a while to regain his footing anyway.

He was blown back into the far wall from where he and Derek had been standing. He can tell, because he made a mental note of the exposed pipes that were there that are now digging into his back.

His eyes blink open slowly, and the world is on a tilt. He shuts his eyes again, and goes to take in a deep breath, keep his head from spinning, but inhales smoke, and ends up coughing violently. His ears pop, and that’s when his hearing starts to come back to him.

He can hear fire crackling and popping around him, the skeleton of the warehouse creaking and groaning.

Beyond that, he hears a warped version of Derek’s voice.

It’s gargled at first, and impossibly far away, but as his senses pull into focus, he’s better able to sharpen the sound of Derek.

He sounds panicked.

“Derek,” Stiles groans; his voice is scratched and rough, like he hasn’t used it in years. 

He wonders how his heartbeat is so even and slow, at a time like this, but then he realizes he’s probably been breathing in smoke for the last few minutes. He’s high on a lack of oxygen to the brain, too much to be anxious. 

“Stiles!”

Derek’s voice is closer than before, and Stiles goes to yell for him again, but is overcome with a coughing fit. He tries to move the rubble around him, but it’s too heavy to lift. His torso is out of the rubble, but there’s a large part of the ceiling propped up against the wall next to him, blocking him from Derek’s view.

He moves his head to face the big block of debris, and he blinks sleepily at it. He wonders briefly if he might have a head wound. He feels like he’s in a dream. 

The sound of splintering wood crackles through Stiles’ head, and the growing fire spits sharply, roars and spreads up.

He whines with more sadness than fear, and through his coughs, struggles to utter, “Derek.”

Like a spell, Derek is before him.

He’s covered in soot, his shirt and jeans are torn, his hair is wild, and his eyes are open wide. In the round of his shoulders and the young, slack look on Derek’s face, Stiles can feel Derek’s persistence. He knows in that moment that Derek was never going to leave without him. 

He gives a weak smile, and says, “hey there.”

Derek hefts the heavy rubble of fallen ceiling, and wall around Stiles like it weighs nothing. There’s sweat clinging to all of Derek’s face and neck, but Stiles can tell it’s from the fire. He can even see burns on Derek’s arms that are still healing. He wonders how many piles of rubble Derek has already searched through to try to find him.

Another beam from behind Derek splinters and cracks, and like a frightened animal, he half-twists around to growl at it. His eyes are their electric blue, and his fangs are descended, but his shoulders are high by his ears, and his breath is coming in short.

When he turns around to face Stiles again, Stiles can see the tears in his eyes.

He reaches his hand out to touch Derek’s, and he mutters, “you got this, Big Guy. We’re gonna make it out of here.”

Derek’s eyes are so round and white, so clear with terror and still, his shaking hand comes to grip Stiles’ fiercely. He nods, and tears through the rest of the debris keeping Stiles pinned to the wall. 

The beam that scared Derek finally falls into the fire, and makes it climb higher, burning Derek’s back. He doesn’t so much as hiss at the pain. 

He looks Stiles’ sharply in the eyes, and asks, “are you - are you okay? Are you going to -"

“I’m gonna make it, Derek,” Stiles nods, “I just can’t stand right now.”

Derek nods again, and gathers Stiles up in his arms. Something else breaks, and falls into the fire, but Stiles can’t see anymore. He shuts his eyes, because he’s just too tired, or weak to keep them open. 

When he opens them again, he’s lying down on the cool grass outside, and the glow from the burning warehouse is lighting up the whole night. He blinks his eyes open to see Derek kneeling beside him, his broad, smooth hands framing Stiles’ face.

His eyes are wet and round again, there are wet tracks in the ash around his face, and his arms and hands are wracked with tremors.

Stiles moves his arm up to gently cup Derek’s hand that’s rested on his cheek.

He smiles as best he can, and says, “stellar fire rescue work, Big D.”

Derek gives a weak laugh that’s so wet and so sharp, Stiles can’t shift the mood.

Derek is _petrified_.

“Hey, I’m alright,” he assures, rubbing his thumb weakly over Derek’s hand, “My brain’s moving kinda slow from oxygen deprivation, but I’m okay.”

“I don’t - I can’t - you - you -”

Stiles uses every fiber of strength left in his body to shift up onto his elbows. He pulls Derek down by his shirt collar, and buts their foreheads together gently. He bumps their noses together, and whispers, “you’re not losing me, Derek. I know this was probably scary for you, but it's okay. It’ll take a lot more than a fiery explosion to get rid of me. Better luck next time.”

Derek makes something close to a genuine chuckle at that, but Stiles only hears it for a brief second before Derek is kissing him softly. 

It’s over so quickly, Stiles thinks it may have been a hallucination. 

Then, before he knows it, he’s lying on his back again, and ambulance sirens are ringing close by.

Derek is petting his hair back, and he swears he hears Derek mutter, "I can't lose you, Stiles. Not like that. Not ever.”

Stiles’ eyes are shut, but he smiles, and gives a nod, feeling warm for an entirely different reason.


End file.
